


Through The Darkness And The Shadows

by mylordshesacactus



Series: The Barrissoka Fusion You Never Knew You Wanted [2]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, F/F, THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME A LITTLE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a shining castle...





	

**Author's Note:**

> NO ONE WRITES EXCESSIVELY LENGTHY DISNEY AUS AND WAKES UP IN A DAZE THREE DAYS LATER TO REALIZE THEY'RE ALMOST 20K LIKE GASTON
> 
> CW: There are a few scenes that involve self-loathing severe enough that it approaches suicidal ideation. Stay safe.
> 
> For best results I highly recommend reading the introduction in the mental voice of the narrator from the Disney movie. Just a protip.

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a shining castle.

She had, for all her young life, all her heart could desire, and was very happy. But one dark night, treachery struck the kingdom. As the royal carriage entered a mountain pass, it was set upon by bandits—assassins, sent by the jealous ruler of a neighboring realm. The attack was swift and silent, and in the confusion the king and the queen were slain. The princess and her personal guard, stout and loyal soldiers, managed to fight their way free of the ambush; but of the entire royal procession, they were the only survivors.

Against all odds, the princess was returned safely to her castle. But there she found no comfort, for war was upon the kingdom. The armies rose against her will; and while the neighboring kingdom that had committed such a terrible crime was finally defeated, the princess looked at the long war, looked at the dead and the fields soaked with blood and knew the price to be too high. For it is a queen’s duty above all to protect her people; and hers had been sent to die.

The princess’ personal guard did their best to comfort her, but try as they might no kind words could find a way through her pain. Always a shy and nervous child, the princess now felt her powerlessness all too well. She felt herself a coward, for hiding behind stone walls while her people bled and died; it could only be selfishness, she thought, to ask that innocent men and women lay down their lives and do nothing for them in return but mourn, and send paltry gifts of food and coin to grieving families. She became convinced that while she might _think_ she loved her people, in truth she must be capable only of using them for her own ends. In time she even came to blame herself for the war, for if she and her family had not been attacked, it never would have begun.

Winter set in. One night, an old beggar woman found her way to the castle. Feeling pity at her ragged appearance, the princess opened the doors for her visitor. She treated the poor old woman like a valued guest, offering her food and shelter for the night. The old woman refused, saying that she could not accept hospitality, as she could offer in return only a single rose.

Still the princess insisted; and as she offered warmth and food a second time, the old woman’s frailty melted away, revealing a wise and powerful enchantress. In return for the kindness shown to her by the princess, she offered a magical gift to the castle and all who lived there.

But the enchantress was disturbed when the princess once more insisted that she be given nothing, and the more the child pleaded that she was unworthy, the more concerned her visitor became; for no young girl who had committed no crime should be so convinced of her own guilt. As a gift, she cast a powerful spell: that the princess might see her soul as it truly was.

The enchantress’ intentions were pure. But she failed to realize how deeply the darkness in the young princess’ heart truly ran. So convinced was she of her own selfish cowardice, so certain was she that she was a burden on her people and a monster to command them to war, that the spell cast in mercy was twisted and ruined. Instead of lifting the veil of her own self-hatred, the magic warped and began to turn the princess’ convictions to reality. Under the enchantress’ eyes, the kind-hearted girl was transformed into a hideous beast.

Seeing her monstrous form and in it the last, terrible confirmation of everything she feared was true about herself, the princess barricaded herself inside her tower, a magic ancestral mirror her last, distant connection to the outside world.

Horrified at the curse she had unwittingly cast, the enchantress tried to reverse the spell; but it was too late. The magic had taken hold. Not even its caster could reverse it now. The enchantress knew there remained but one glimmer of hope, for the magic was tied to the beast’s own heart. And should she ever learn to see herself as worthy not of hatred and abuse, but of love, the spell might yet be broken. If not, she would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.

Still the years went by. And as they passed, the princess fell into despair.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

* * *

* * *

The house shook on its foundations.

Generally, that kind of thing alarmed people. Ahsoka just sighed and pulled the magnifying glasses off her head, setting a delicate clock gear carefully on the table before standing up.

“What did you blow up this time?” she called down into the cellar.

Her brother answered her with a long string of swearing.

Satisfied that Anakin wasn’t dead, Ahsoka decided she could take her time going to check on him. Then smoke started billowing up from under the door, and she changed her mind. Still, no point in letting it fill the house up. That was the whole reason Anakin’s more...temperamental inventions were strictly confined to the cellar.

Ahsoka slipped out the back door, ducked through the forge, and took a deep breath before hauling the cellar doors open.

There was a great deal of smoke and dust but no open flames, and she gave a sigh of relief as she coughed her way through the clouds of dirt, flour, and smoke.

“Anakin?” she called.

After a second she saw the figure of her brother clambering to his feet across the cellar.

“How did that happen?” he demanded of nobody in particular.

Ahsoka laughed. “You okay there, Skyguy?”

Anakin growled.

 _“I’m_ fine,” he said. “But I’m about to give up on this hunk of scrap metal over here.”

“Mmmhmm.” Ahsoka rolled her eyes affectionately, crossing over to perch on a barrel of water they kept around for emergencies following a series of incidents involving the house being on fire. “Just like the last one.”

“I’m serious!”

“And the one before that,” she continued. “And the three before them…”

“I mean it this time,” Anakin grumbled. He sounded as convincing as ever. “This thing’s never gonna work.”

Ahsoka leaned over to grab a bolt off the floor and flicked it at his head.

“Quit that,” she told him. “You’ll figure it out, and then you’ll drag it to the festival tomorrow and impress everyone and finally marry Padmé and get out of my house.”

“It’s my house,” he reminded her.

Ahsoka batted her eyelashes at him. “Not once you move in with Padmé.”

“You’ll miss me,” he countered.

“Yup! And I’ll invite you over to _my_ house every week, where I’ll be able to entertain you because I’ll be the new village blacksmith and actually have, you know, money.”

Anakin threw a dirty rag at her. “Maybe Padmé’ll move in with _us.”_

Ahsoka gave him a flat look.

“There is no way,” she deadpanned, “that Padmé Amidala is letting you move her into this house.”

Anakin grinned and snatched his rag back.

“Not if I can’t sell any of my inventions,” he agreed. “Hand me that, uh...the, the thing, with the—yeah, that one.”

Ahsoka shook her head as Anakin slid under a massive, creaking apparatus. “You know,” she pointed out for the eight thousandth time. “Padmé would marry you yesterday if you’d just ask.”

Anakin pushed himself out from under the...whatever it was...to give her a stern look before returning to what he’d been doing.

“We’ve been through this, Snips,” he called from under the thing. “I’m not a leech. I’m not asking her to marry me unless I have something to offer her.”

“Her family owns half the country,” Ahsoka reminded him. “She doesn’t exactly need you to support her.”

There was a deep sigh.

“It’s not about that, Ahsoka, it’s...this is for me, okay? I need to know I could take care of her if something happened.”

Ahsoka smiled.

“She really loves you, Anakin,” she said softly.

There was a pause, then one of the dreamy sighs that had earned him his nickname. This boy was always off in the clouds somewhere.

“Yeah,” he said happily. “I’m lucky.”

Ahsoka let the moment stretch on a little longer, then smacked him with a wrench.

“Back to work,” she said.

“Tyrant,” he shot back. Then, “So what about you? You’re about the right age to be looking, anybody in town been catching your eye lately?”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

“You really want to start on this again?” she asked.

Anakin, however, was nothing if not persistent.

“I mean,” he said. “The miller’s girl’s pretty cute, and the baker’s daughter….has a great personality. Or what about that Kaeden girl from the festival last year?”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka replied immediately, counting them off on her fingers. “Not my type; not interested, I asked; and I liked her a lot but she lives a little too far for any kind of…you know, courtship.” She flushed at that last bit, and Anakin laughed before giving a thoughtful hum.

“Well,” he suggested. “What about Lux?”

There was a pause.

In perfect unison, they both burst out laughing.

“Okay,” Anakin finally gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. “Okay, I’m done, I’ll leave you alone.”

“That was a good one,” Ahsoka managed to get out, clutching her ribs.

Anakin was still snickering as he went back to work.

“Joking aside,” he grinned. “I just want you to be happy.”

Ahsoka leaned back against the wall, pulling her feet up onto the barrel as the sun set outside the open cellar doors. A pair of birds raced twittering away over the trees, startling a big draft horse lounging in the field.

“I _am_ happy, Skyguy,” she told him. “What more could I want?”

* * *

 _Gee,_ Ahsoka thought, not for the first time. _Think we’re tinkerers?_

It was probably a good thing she and Anakin were both bachelors, honestly. It would have been hell for anyone who was less enthusiastic about craftwork to live with them. The entire house effectively consisted of workshop. The forge and storefront were in the back. The cellar was almost entirely taken up by whatever Anakin’s passion project of the moment happened to be, with actual food and preserves and anything normally stored in a cellar shoved up against the walls.

There was enough space set aside in the main house for a kitchen, because the only thing the two of them liked more than tinkering was not starving to death; but most of the space was dedicated to workbenches. Anakin had started as a blacksmith and toolmaker, and he was still the best in the business, but he’d gotten fascinated with clocks and, while he’d never be a clockmaker, he could generally repair them well enough. They’d make little clockwork toys from spare parts, and Ahsoka would often carve figurines as stress relief. She was pretty good, too. Lots of little ways to make a bit of income, in this house.

But not a lot in the way of relaxation. Which was a problem, because right now Ahsoka didn’t actually have anything to do.

Oh, there were plenty of things she _could_ do, and if Anakin was here he’d oh so helpfully suggest she pass the time by going out to the forge and making some nails. She was technically her older brother’s apprentice, so he could get away with things like that. But she’d literally rather drive nails into her fingertips than spend the whole day making them, and in preparation for the fair Anakin had worked them both overtime to clear his schedule for the entire week.

Well, maybe she could carve another chess set…

Ahsoka stood at the foot of the stairs for several long minutes before deciding to do _anything_ but that.

It’d been a while since she went for a hike.

She almost went to grab her bow and quiver, but stopped and thought better of it. Not this time. She just wanted to take a walk today. Plus, this way she could save a hunting trip for when Anakin got back and she needed an excuse to get out of nail-making duty. She grinned at the thought and set off across the fields, headed toward the nearby hills.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy here, because she was. Just...Anakin would be gone soon, and much as Ahsoka liked her life, she wasn’t...so sure she wanted to live it exactly like this _forever._ The place was so “Anakin” it was basically an extension of her brother. A few touches that were hers, sure, but...it was his legacy, not hers.

She wasn’t ready to settle down _anywhere_ just yet. She wanted to take advantage of her relative freedom while she could.

A horse’s scream brought her up short.

“What the…” she spun around and her eyes widened. _“Twilight?”_

As if she could have been mistaken.

Twilight was the kind of horse who was worth every cent they’d spent on her, because she’d been free. Or near enough; a few coins for a big, powerful draft mare was enough of a bargain that it made very little difference.

She wasn’t a pretty horse, despite her beautiful blue-roan silvering. She had a lazy eye and terrible breath. Her head was blocky, her legs were too short for her body and her neck was too long, her mane was ragged. Her coat was dull and she had some kind of bug allergy that meant it was always patchy and thin no matter how carefully Ahsoka tended to her. She had solid, well-built legs, but she still seemed to come up lame half the time.

Anakin loved her, though. She had a sweet temperament, and on the rare occasions when she was fit to work she was strong; and there wasn’t a horse in the country that could possibly try their heart out more than Twilight.

And right now, she was terrified.

 _“Whoa!”_ Ahsoka bolted back toward the house, leaping in front of the runaway horse. That was a ridiculously stupid thing to do, but she knew Twilight. The mare slammed on the brakes just like she’d predicted, half-rearing and pawing at the air in a panic as Ahsoka jumped and grabbed her bridle. “Easy! Easy, girl.” Twilight bugled again, rolling her eyes; but she let herself be calmed, and once Ahsoka was pretty sure she wasn’t going to bolt again she was able to make a better assessment of the situation.

It didn’t look good. The cart was half smashed to pieces, and her brother’s most recent brainwave was dented and bent at alarming angles. Anakin shouldn’t have been back for another week, but it had already been two days. If he was stranded in the middle of the woods, especially with the nights starting to get cold, he was in real trouble.

And this was Twilight. She might occasionally walk face-first into the broadside of a barn, but she didn’t spook easily.

“What happened?” Ahsoka breathed as if the horse was about to answer her. Then she shook herself. It didn’t matter what had happened, what mattered was what she was going to do about it.

The harness was twisted and its fastenings had been bent and damaged somehow during Twilight’s wild flight through the forest. Ahsoka unfastened what she could, then pulled out a belt knife and started sawing through the leather straps she couldn’t unhook. There would be time to fix everything once she made sure Anakin was safe.

And he was, she insisted as she finally managed to pull the breast collar over Twilight’s head. He was fine. He had to be.

Twilight didn’t have a saddle, half because her back was too wide to ever ride comfortably and half because she was more likely to wander off a cliff than actually go where a rider told her to. Well, Ahsoka could manage. She took a running jump and flopped her way onto the mare’s massive back, and knotted the long driving reins to make them a little more manageable.

“Well,” she announced. “That’s gonna have to be good enough, Twilight. Come on, girl. You’re gonna help me find Anakin.”

* * *

Twilight did not help her find Anakin.

What they found was a dark forest, and Ahsoka instantly felt stupid for riding off like that, practically at dusk, without even stopping to grab a cloak or anything to eat. As the night wore on, they found empty, confusing roads. At one point, wolves started singing far in the distance, and Twilight pranced and tossed her head and came terrifyingly close to bucking. Ahsoka gripped her patchy mane and desperately held the mare in place, murmuring comfort. If Twilight bucked, there was no way she was staying on.

After a long, tense minute, Twilight settled enough that Ahsoka was able to give the mare her head back, and they continued on their way.

“Twilight?” Ahsoka whispered. “I think...I think I took us the wrong way.”

The horse flicked her ears in a friendly manner and clopped heavily down a slope. Ahsoka’s heart sank. This was definitely the wrong way. They’d crossed this exact river before, in this exact direction, from this exact spot. How had she even _managed_ that?

At least...at least she thought it was this river…

Twilight, dutiful and lacking in common sense as always, calmly waded into the river. Ahsoka clucked at her and reined her to a halt before the horse could get in deeper than her knees.

“No, girl,” she said kindly. “Not here, we’re going further up.”

Twilight nickered, and was just starting to turn when a fox shrieked from somewhere nearby.

Poor Twilight never had a chance; she jerked up and shied so violently that Ahsoka herself wasn’t even really thrown from her horse; the horse just disappeared from under her, and she dropped into the icy river with a massive splash.

For a moment she just rolled back to her hands and knees, spluttering. Then the cold hit.

It didn’t even feel like cold; it was a sharp _burn,_ like the time her leg had brushed the glowing side of a plow in the forge. Except it was all over, and her chest tightened as she scrambled out of the water.

By a miracle, Twilight hadn’t run. She sniffed in Ahsoka’s direction as her owner climbed shaking to her feet, nudging Ahsoka’s chest with her huge nose.

Ahsoka was grateful for the big, stupid mare’s concern, but it wasn’t enough.. Her fingers were numb, every part of her was shaking; she couldn’t grab hold of anything to pull herself onto Twilight’s back.

“O-okay,” she managed, teeth chattering, and looped Twilight’s reins around her wrist. “Okay. We’re fine. Let’s just...keep moving.”

It was the worst possible thing to do when lost in the woods, and she knew it. But she was too cold and exhausted to stop moving now. If she curled up to wait until morning, she would fall asleep. And if she fell asleep now, she’d never wake up.

Well, there was no way she was going back into that water. She leaned against Twilight’s cold side and started back the other direction.

She’d been shivering already; now the cold was _part_ of her, ripping through her body like she was made of cotton. Shivers became full-body spasms, and Twilight nudged her again.

“I know, girl,” she rasped. “We’re gonna be…”

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes.

“...Okay,” she finished.

They still hadn’t found Anakin. But they’d found a castle.

It was dark, but that was only to be expected at this time of night. They might have some leftover food, she thought hopefully. If nothing else, they might have a stable or something where she could spend the night.

At the very least, it would get her out of the wind for a few minutes.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she stumbled up to the gate. She hesitated before pressing her trembling hand to the bars. If she was locked out on a night like this, she didn’t know if she could stand it…

But the gate swung open at her touch.

Even as she shook, aching with the need to be inside any kind of structure _right now,_ Ahsoka hesitated. She wasn’t certain where she was supposed to go, but Twilight’s bulk at her side made the decision for her. Her first responsibility was to her horse.

She found the stables quickly enough. She’d hoped to find someone—a stablemaster, a groom, maybe a stable boy sleeping in a stall—but the place was empty. _Completely_ empty. The stalls were big and roomy, with thick straw and sawdust underfoot; the mangers were filled with fresh hay, and there were full barrels of oats in the hall. But no horses.

“Must all be out somewhere,” Ahsoka mused. At least the stable was warm. She stuck Twilight in the second-biggest box—she didn’t want to be rude to their host, but since no one else was using it they might as well—and blew on her hands until she got enough feeling back to give the mare a quick rubdown. She borrowed a thick rug from a tackroom to throw over Twilight’s back.

The poor horse deserved better, but she’d get it in the morning.

“Promise,” Ahsoka told her through a yawn. “I just can’t right now.”

Twilight, whose entire head was buried in her hay, didn’t seem too bothered.

For a minute, Ahsoka considered just climbing into the hayloft and dealing with whoever their hosts were later. But that would be pretty rude, and more importantly, she was starving. If there was any chance of begging a few table scraps from the kitchen, she was going to try it.

The short trip from the stable to the castle was almost worse than the walk to get this far. This time, she hadn’t been acclimating for hours to steadily dropping temperatures. For a few minutes she’d almost half-thawed.

The door to the kitchen creaked open almost before she could touch it, and Ahsoka hastily closed it behind her.

Oh, she thought. Oh this was _nice._ It was pitch-black and completely empty, but it was _warm._ Her fingertips prickled as the dangerous numbness started to recede.

“Hello?” she called, keeping her voice low in case people were sleeping. When there was no answer she tried again, louder. _“Hello?_ Look, I’m sorry, it’s late, I just...I was lost, my horse dropped me in the river. I needed somewhere to stay...I was wondering if you had any food? Nothing fancy, just...if you had some…”

Her voice echoed a bit in the empty space, and there was no reply.

Weird.

“Uh,” she tried again. “Hello?”

She thought she might have heard indistinct voices, and felt her way across the kitchen and out into the corridor.

“Listen,” she called. “I don’t want to intrude…”

The voices continued as she looked around, until she finally saw candlelight moving along a wall.

“Excuse me?” she called. “I just wanted to ask if…”

Following the light brought her out into a large, central hall—but there was still no one there. She was about to call out again, but this time when she heard a pair of male voices she could, just barely, make out the words.

“...gotten lost in the woods, surely…”

 _“Quiet._ Maybe she’ll…”

“Sir, look at her, she’s…”

Ahsoka frowned and peered around for the source of the muttering. It was too clear and quiet to be anything but close, but there was no one anywhere near her. Just a side table, with a pocketwatch lying next to a single, simple candlestick, glowing dimly in the massive space.

“...can’t just…”

“Quiet!”

“Uh,” said Ahsoka. “Is somebody there? I can hear you, you know.”

There was a pause.

“Well, now you’ve done it, kid,” a man’s voice snapped from right next to her. Ahsoka leapt a foot in the air.

“Good, sir.” The second voice was a little younger, and less gruff. “You know we’ve got a duty to travellers!”

Ahsoka’s heart was pounding. “Where are you?!” she demanded.

“Oh! Right. My bad, miss.” That was the younger voice. “We’re over here.”

The candlelight bobbed as, right before Ahsoka’s eyes, the golden candle stick wiggled and waved to her.

“...Huh,” she decided.

The pocketwatch flipped itself open, propping itself up on its cover with the clock face toward Ahsoka. It glared at the candlestick.

“You’re responsible for this, Crash,” it said. “After what happened the last time—!”

The candlestick somehow managed to wince. “I know, sir,” it...or he, Ahsoka figured...said, sounding guilty. “But she’s hungry, and he was hurt…”

“He took my backing off,” the pocketwatch grumbled. “Fingers all over my business! Those gears are personal! And he tickled.”

Crash snickered. “You’ll get over it, sir.”

The pocketwatch sighed. “You mean well, kid, but...look, miss, you shouldn’t—”

“Worry about a thing!” Crash interrupted brightly. Heh. Brightly. “You’re welcome here.”

“ _Keep your voice down,_ ” said the pocketwatch. “Absolutely not. When the mistress finds her here…”

He paused, and seemed to notice for the first time the way Ahsoka was hugging herself, shaking with lingering, bone-deep cold.

Finally, he sighed.

“Oh, kid.” His voice was warmer now, kinder. “You’re soaked clean through. Listen, I’m sorry. Maybe we can get you something from the kitchen, but...”

Crash hopped forward, flame somehow burning brighter. “But not until you’ve gotten a chance to warm up a little,” he said firmly.

“Not exactly was I was gonna…”

Crash ignored the pocketwatch. “Here, miss.” He hopped off the table. “There’s a fire built up in the sitting room.”

Ahsoka, bemused but willing to follow anyone who mentioned warmth, trotted after him as he bounded across the hall.

There _was_ a fire built up in the sitting room. Crash gestured encouragingly toward a comfortable armchair near the fireplace, but Ahsoka ignored him in favor of sinking to the floor at the hearth, giving a shuddering sigh of relief as the clammy feeling in her chest finally started to melt away. A hatstand waltzed over, gently wrapping a plush blanket around her shoulders. A throw pillow on the armchair stirred, stretched like a cat, and jumped down to rub against Ahsoka’s side, purring madly.

This was all very strange. But it was also charming, and Ahsoka obligingly stroked the cat-pillow.

It yowled and fled as, with a squeal of brakes, a tea cart raced up beside Ahsoka and skidded to an abrupt halt.

A single blue-and-white teacup hopped to the edge.

“Atten—HUT!” it barked.

With military precision, the other teacups sprang into two perfectly straight, even lines. A matching teapot waddled its way between the rows and leaned over to pour steaming tea into the lead cup.

“Check and clear, sir,” it reported crisply.

The teacup flicked its handle in what might have been a salute.

“Operation Tearoom is go,” it announced. “Initiating in three...two…”

The teacup hopped off the cart, and Ahsoka quickly held out her hand to catch it.

“Nicely done, soldier,” the teacup informed her.

Ahsoka’s lips twitched. “Thanks.”

The pocketwatch, it turned out, had followed them. “This is a very bad idea,” he hissed, inching along on the edges of his casing. “You should all know better!”

The head teacup nudged Ahsoka’s hand insistently, and she obediently took a sip. The tea was pretty good, once she got over the awkwardness of her chinaware talking while she drank from it.

“The mistress _I_ serve would never leave a poor girl to die in the cold,” the teacup said stubbornly. “And you ought to know that too, Gree.”

Ahsoka held the teacup up to look at him.

“Gree?” she asked.

The teacup winked, somehow. “Name’s Rex,” he said, wiggling his handle so that he shook two of her fingers in greeting. “That over there’s Fives, Jesse, Hardcase…” There was a litany of other names that Ahsoka couldn’t keep up with, finishing with “...and Echo. And Kix,” he added, and the teapot waved his spout.

“You can talk,” Ahsoka observed.

Crash the candlestick laughed.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s kind of a long story.”

“I wasn’t aware,” a new voice growled, “that it was a story we shared with strangers.”

A cold wind seemed to sweep through the room as Ahsoka turned to see the new arrival.

She was pretty sure she preferred the talking household objects.

Standing in the doorway was...well, she was something. The creature was massive, too big to fit through the door upright, so she stalked slowly into the room on all fours. The voice had been feminine, but it was rough, distorted around fangs that glinted from the shadows and didn’t quite fit into the creature’s mouth. A stiff, rugged razorback mane and sharp black antlers were silhouetted against the blue moonlight in the hall, but Ahsoka couldn’t make out anything else.

Crash cleared his throat nervously.

“Evening, ma’am,” he said. “Look, I know what you said, but she’s soaking wet and it’s death out there, we couldn’t just…”

Gree hopped forward.

“I let him, mistress,” he said. “She’d have frozen.”

The creature paused.

“Unfortunate,” she said. The word was a low rumble. “None of us would seem to have a choice.”

“We do have a choice, mistress.” That was Rex, quiet but firm, and Ahsoka reached out and placed him back on the tea cart. She didn’t want him getting in trouble because of her.

“Hi,” she told the hulking creature awkwardly. Very, very slowly, she got to her feet. “I didn’t mean any harm, I—I got lost, and my horse spooked. I was just hoping I could spend the night in your stable or something?”

“I’m sorry, mistress.” That was Gree again. “I told them it was a mistake.”

“Enough, Commander, thank you.” The beast stepped further into the room, paws the size of dinner plates spreading across the floor. Her...host...flexed claws longer than Ahsoka’s entire hand, and Ahsoka’s mouth went dry. The beast was easily the size of Twilight, but leaner, nothing but muscle and sinew. She had thick, shaggy fur; like a wolf, like a bear, rough and weatherproof. But she moved almost leonine, and as the firelight danced over her pelt Ahsoka realized that fur she’d initially thought to be flat black was actually marbled, black on black, like a panther.

This was a creature built for power and brutal efficiency. Something designed to kill.

The beast’s eyes were ice, fixed on Ahsoka as she swallowed and tried to take in the existence of...whatever this was.

After a long moment, the creature gave a low, mirthless laugh.

“Come to stare at the beast?” she asked bitterly. “Look your fill. You will have plenty of time to do so.”

“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Ahsoka told her, backing away. “I had no idea you existed.”

Another bitter huff of hollow laughter.

“The world has no desire to remember me,” the beast told her, tail sweeping behind her. Her voice was rougher when she added, “Nor should it.”

Ahsoka didn’t know what to make of that, so she decided to just keep moving. “Okay,” she said. “Listen, I didn’t actually mean to end up here, I—my brother’s horse came home without him. I had to go looking for him, and…”

“It doesn’t matter.” The beast’s tone was even. Almost calm, if there hadn’t been so much caustic anger burning under the surface. “You don’t need to justify yourself. It makes no difference.”

“Right,” said Ahsoka.

The beast glared at her again, and sniffed in Ahsoka’s direction.

“Your brother,” she growled. “He disappeared. His horse ran off, he was chased by wolves, and he only has one hand.”

A jolt went down her spine.

“Yes!” Anakin had only been a kid during the war, but he’d followed his father into the army and served as a groom. Only he’d ended up charging into the fighting anyway, and he’d lost his hand. The prosthetic was one he’d designed and made himself, he’d altered all his tools to fit into its grip, he lived with it just fine, but how could this thing possibly… “You saw him? He’s okay?”

“You’ll see him again.” The beast’s voice was grim.

“Thank you,” Ahsoka said. “I just...I can go, I just thought I’d ask if you had any food to spare, but I’m fine, I can just…”

The beast’s ears flicked back. She made no other motion, no threatening movement, but Ahsoka still shut up.

“You’ll be fed,” she promised, voice low and dark. “I can promise that.”

Against her better judgement, Ahsoka’s stomach perked up hopefully. The beast’s next words poured ice water on that hope.

“I take obligations to my prisoners very seriously.”

* * *

Of course Ahsoka had tried to run.

She shouldn’t have bothered. It was trying to outrun a wolf, but with an even longer stride and the power to rip her open with a single blow. The beast had almost been gentle; subdued her without even trying. Ahsoka hadn’t even been able to get out the door.

“Let me go!” she shouted, twisting uselessly as she was dragged up a staircase by the back of her shirt. “You can’t do this! _You can’t just do this to people!”_

She tried to wriggle out of her shirt; maybe, if she could get on her feet, grab one of the torches lining the walls…

Without warning, the pressure on her collar was dropped, and a muzzle lined with six-inch fangs closed over Ahsoka’s upper arm. She yelled out of shock rather than pain; the teeth hadn’t broken her skin. The beast continued pulling her up the twisting stairs with barely a pause.

 _“Get off!”_ She struck the beast’s muzzle with a fist and got nothing but an irritated grunt for her trouble. “I never did anything to you! You can’t—”

The grip on her arm suddenly heaved, and Ahsoka was flung backward, hitting the stone floor hard and rolling. The sound of a heavy door swinging closed, solid locks falling into place, made dread settle into her stomach before she could even look up.

It was cold up here.

The beast was watching her, blue eyes all but glowing in the darkness.

“I wish this was unnecessary,” she said. “You shouldn’t have run.”

Then, in the darkness:

“Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka forgot all about the black shape watching her through the bars. _“Anakin!”_

A pale hand reached through the wall—no, through the bars of a low window connecting the two cells. Ahsoka scrambled over to him, squeezing his hand.

“You’re okay,” she breathed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

Ahsoka’s eyebrows raised. “Nice to see you too.”

“It’s _not_ nice to see you!” Anakin exclaimed. “You’re locked in a prison tower! You were supposed to be back home!”

Ahsoka gave a sheepish grin.

“I, uh,” she said. “Came to rescue you.”

Anakin looked at her. Finally, he cracked a weak smile.

“Thanks.”

The light shifted, and Ahsoka looked back at the beast.

The creature met her eyes before turning away. “I’ll have food sent to you,” she said shortly.

Anakin leaned over, trying to see her from his cell.

“Are we supposed to be _grateful?”_ he demanded.

Ahsoka shifted nervously. “Uh,” she said. “Skyguy? Maybe don’t provoke her until after we get fed—”

“I mean it!” Anakin insisted. “You expect us to be grateful that you locked us up for no reason but didn’t let us starve to death on top of it?”

The beast’s ears folded back as she asked tersely, “Do I not have the right to imprison trespassers?”

“Why are you doing this?” Ahsoka asked. “You said you didn’t want to.”

The beast bared her teeth, tail lashing the stone floor.

“Yes,” she bit out. “I’m certain you would like that. For me to set you free, and send you back to your village. And you would return with torches and pitchforks and guns in search of a trophy. You wouldn’t be the first. So you see.” Here the beast gave a twisted imitation of a wry smile. “I have no choice. I take no pleasure in this. Perhaps it would be easier to release you, and then lie down and wait for the mob. Perhaps I would deserve it. But I fear death and pain as much as you, and when the hunters came that first time none of them returned. So I protect your friends and neighbors by this.”

Ahsoka’s mind raced. “What if we could prove we wouldn’t tell anyone?”

The beast snorted.

“You will.”

“Not if you have a hostage.” Ahsoka’s heart beat wildly against her ribs. “I’ll stay here, and then you don’t need two of us.”

“Uh, no.” Anakin tried to push himself onto his feet, and Ahsoka hissed as she saw the bandage around his calf. It was good-quality, recently changed linen, but...wolves. The beast had said her brother was chased by wolves… “You’re going, I’m—”

“Getting married.” Ahsoka glared at him. “You’ve got a future, Anakin. I’ll be fine.”

Anakin protested loudly, but Ahsoka ignored him. She and the beast were looking each other in the eye.

“You offer yourself as collateral,” the beast said finally. She was still, poised halfway toward leaving. “You give your word?”

“Uh, no,” said Anakin. _“I_ am, she’s leaving—”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka interrupted him. “He’d never be able to resist escaping, I know him. And I don’t want him to get killed trying. So, I’ll stay. He won’t try anything when he knows you could kill me.”

The beast glanced between them, and that rough, sardonic edge was back in her voice when she asked, “You trust _his_ discretion?”

Ahsoka stiffened. “I trust him with my life.”

Something shifted on the beast’s face, just for a moment.

“Done.”

* * *

It was over...faster than Ahsoka had been ready for.

The beast had let them say goodbye, which was...nice. But Ahsoka had never had anyone but Anakin. They’d been inseparable since she was a kid, she could barely even remember their parents. This whole thing had been her idea, but she couldn’t stop herself from clinging to him through the bars of her cell door when her captor finally moved forward to push him away.

That was about when Anakin had freaked out.

It hadn’t done him any more good than it had Ahsoka. The beast was on him before he could lay a hand on her, slamming him to the ground with a massive paw. Ahsoka had thought for a terrifying moment that she was about to see her brother torn to pieces; but his clothes weren’t even damaged. He’d been dragged off by the collar, kicking and screaming, the same way she’d been captured in the first place.

She’d been able to hear him from the tower, calling for her even as what sounded like carriage wheels clattered off into the night.

But it hadn’t...clicked.

None of it had felt real.

She hadn’t expected the beast to come back, and she certainly hadn’t expected the creature to silently open Ahsoka’s cell door and order her to follow. She supposed it was a surprise that she was shown to a comfortable, well-furnished guest room with a fire already burning in the hearth, but she’d been too numb to do anything but fumble her way to sitting on the bed. The beast had left her alone after that, and she’d been sitting here ever since.

It couldn’t be real. It was ridiculous, the idea of her and Anakin living the rest of their lives without seeing each other. They were...they were her and Anakin. What, was she not supposed to be there for him and Padmé’s wedding? Or their kids…?

All of a sudden it felt _very_ real.

Ahsoka didn’t cry easily. She prided herself on that, actually. She was a problem-solver. Her response to a hopeless situation was to make it _un_ -hopeless. There was always something you could do to make a catastrophe suck a little bit less. But not this time. This time there was nothing she could do, because she’d promised she wouldn’t, and...and that meant something. Because it meant Anakin could go home and him and Padmé could be happy.

Ahsoka didn’t realize she was crying until she gave a great, heaving sob for breath, and then she pulled her knees against her chest and figured she might as well give in to it.

She didn’t know how long it was until there was a light tap at the door; but it was long enough that she’d gotten her emotions back in check, at least enough to call thickly, “It’s unlocked.”

The tea cart poked its way through the door, and a familiar teapot waved to her as it rolled up to a stop beside the bed.

“Evening, miss.” Kix the Teapot sounded subdued as Rex hopped over to him for a fillup. “The mistress told us to make sure you were fed.”

“And we figured you could use a bit of tea, hey?” offered Rex.

Ahsoka gave him a wavering smile. “Thanks,” she said.

“Hey, easy there, Captain,” Kix called as Rex jumped into her hand. “You’re gonna spill, sir. That’s the last thing she needs after tonight.” A few of the teacups shushed him at that last part, but Rex didn’t seem bothered.

“She’s all right,” he said bracingly, pausing to let Ahsoka take a sip. When she lowered him a little, cupping her hands around the warm tea, he looked up somberly and nudged her hand. “That was brave back there, kid.”

“We all think so,” added one of the teacups. Fives, she thought. There was a chorus of agreement.

Kix hopped toward her encouragingly. “You’ll be all right,” he told her. “It’ll be easier in the morning.”

Ahsoka tried to smile again, but couldn’t quite manage it.

After a moment, Rex waved his handle to get her attention.

“Hey,” he said. “Kid.” Ahsoka looked down at him, attention caught by his somber tone. After a moment of gazing seriously up at her, the captain of the teacups abruptly screwed his face up. Her tea bubbled as if she’d blown into it through a reed, and the effect was so comical and unexpected and Ahsoka couldn’t help but laugh.

“When I do that, he calls it unprofessional!” said one of the teacups.

“Yeah, yeah.” Rex hopped back onto the tea cart, which tossed a covered silver platter onto the bed next to Ahsoka. “You eat something and get some rest, little one. Come down to the kitchen whenever you want breakfast tomorrow. It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka swallowed. “Thanks, guys.”

* * *

“That’s _enough,_ Gree.”

Commander Gree often hung from his chain around her neck for convenience’s sake; tonight he was sitting on a side table, badgering her, and Barriss’ ears twitched with irritation.

The little silver-and-emerald pocketwatch, unfortunately, had known her since her childhood and had earned the right to be impertinent.

“You might at least invite her to supper, my lady.”

Barriss turned sharply, and winced. _Every time._ She cursed her claws again. She should know better than to pace like this. The marble in front of her dining-room fireplace was scored with talon marks.

“Do you honestly believe that girl wants to dine with me, Commander?” Everything she said was a snarl now. She was used to it, but she still hated the anger it always carried, whether she willed it to or not. “Leave her be.”

Gree cleared his nonexistent throat.

“As you wish, mistress.” Seemingly unable to help himself, he continued, “But she strikes me as a sweet enough girl, and…”

Barriss shook her head sharply. “And she’s a prisoner here, held hostage against her will. I dragged her brother out of her arms not twenty minutes ago, Gree! I intend to let her have peace.”

Crash, from his perch on the mantle, looked mulish.

“You haven’t talked to a girl your own age in years, m’lady.”

She stared at him incredulously.

“Leave. The girl. Alone.” Crash at least winced at the threatening rumble deep in her chest. “I regret her imprisonment. You will treat her with respect, and you will not... _use_ her, because you think it might make me _feel better.”_

Crash dipped his candle.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured. Even Gree looked abashed.

“I understand, mistress,” he said. “I only thought... the kid’s lost everything. I just figured she must be awfully lonely right now.”

“That is exactly why—” Barely resisting the urge to howl in frustration, Barriss whirled around, but she’d overestimated how far away she was from Gree’s table. Her tail swept out, sending papers flying and tossing the pocketwatch off the stand. _“Gree!”_

A loop of chain shot up from the floor and hooked around the arm of a nearby chair as Gree flipped himself up off the floor.

“Not to worry, mistress.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, flinching back and drawing a paw to her chest. “Gree, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I wouldn’t,” she finished miserably.

“I know,” he assured her. After a moment, very gently, he said, “I wish you’d try to connect with her. Princess…”

Barriss couldn’t bear to lash out at her former guardsmen again. Instead, she turned and nodded toward the ancient mirror hanging above the fireplace.

“Show me the girl,” she told it.

The surface warped and flashed, dissolving into a slightly fuzzy image of...Ahsoka, is what the brother had called her...in the room she’d been given. She was wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the corner where her bed met the wall. A position, Barriss realized with a sick pang of guilt, where she could keep an eye on the door.

The platter provided by the guard was next to her. The bread and cheese had vanished, and an empty soup bowl had been set aside; but Ahsoka didn’t seem to derive much comfort from the food. She was holding a bit of roasted duck blankly in front of her face, turning the fork from side to side without seeming to see it. After a long moment, she dropped it back to the platter and rested her head on her arms, shoulders shaking. Barriss twitched her tail, and the image faded.

“She will never see me as anything but a monster,” she said quietly. “I accepted that long ago. It’s more than time you both did the same.”

* * *

All right.

Of all the problems Ahsoka would have foreseen she might run into in an enchanted castle ruled over by a supernatural monster, _boredom_ wasn’t one of them.

It had been three weeks, and, in spite of herself, Ahsoka was still a problem-solver. As it turned out, there _was_ always something to be done. The first day she’d gone out and given Twilight the thorough grooming and handful of sugar cubes she deserved. Twilight had thanked her by somehow managing to punch her head through a wall, so the rest of the day had been taken up by fixing the stable wall.

With winter coming on fast the gardens weren’t what they might have been, but they were still pretty; and this place had a library you could get lost in, so she’d done just that a few times. Taken a look around the art gallery, too. Sat out in the sun and watched Twilight roll into a rosebush, squeal and flail away from it, and then cautiously lie down and try it again only to be shocked when it pricked her.

Ahsoka was reasonably certain that horse had been dropped on her head as a foal.

She hadn’t seen the beast since that first night, which was mostly a relief. But Rex and what she’d learned was referred to as the Five Hundred And First Teacup Battalion had been really helpful, showing her around and sharing interesting little architectural secrets; secret passageways, out-of-the-way nooks and crannies. Gree was mostly with his mistress, but he and Crash occasionally dropped by to check on her, and Gree knew _everything_ about the castle’s history.

But...there was only so much to do, and days were _long_ when there was nothing to fill them with.

A week ago she hadn’t been able to sleep. So she’d pulled out her bag of scrap metal and the little hammer she’d used in the stable, sat down in front of the fireplace in her room, and spent the hours until dawn making nails.

At least there was still a lot of castle to explore.

Ahsoka wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed the way her helpful guides always seemed to either pop up right when she entered a certain part of the castle, or else got a sudden brainwave and ushered her away to something they swore she would enjoy. But everyone was busy today, and...well. There was obviously _something_ interesting going on in the west wing.

“This is really dumb,” she said out loud, and then pushed the door open anyway.

She blinked rapidly as she slipped through and into the corridor beyond, light-blind in the sudden darkness; she had to leave the door cracked just to keep that sliver of light, or she wouldn’t have been able to see her hand in front of her face.

There were no lamps here; the wall fastenings had been torn clean off. The walls were crisscrossed with deep claw marks, the rug underfoot almost shredded. A bit of chain dangled from the ceiling halfway down the hall where a chandelier might once have hung, but the light fixture had also been ripped away. The only things untouched in the corridor were the thick velvet curtains that sealed any hint of sunlight away.

Ahsoka inched her way along the corridor to the nearest door, reaching to test the handle only to find it missing. The door swung open at her touch, but the room inside was in no better condition than the hallway. It was like something had been tortured in here. The mirror was shattered, the windows still shrouded, claw marks like scars marring the floor. In the dim light from the corridor Ahsoka thought she could make out old bloodstains—probably from whenever that mirror had been broken.

The pattern continued for the few rooms Ahsoka could work up the courage to check; all had handles missing except one, which was locked tight. None were as thoroughly destroyed as the first; some of the damage looked almost accidental.

There was a large master bedroom at the end of the hall. Ahsoka, fighting a sudden conviction that she shouldn’t have come here and ought to turn back, now, as quickly as possible, stepped across the threshold.

She couldn’t make out much of anything except shadows against darker shadows; but she thought that at one point, this room would have been beautiful.

An entire wall was once again hidden by thick velvet, suggesting a full-length set of windows, maybe a balcony. But once again the walls and floor were torn, this time even worse than in the little dressing room she’d first seen. A few portraits—expensive-looking things that seemed to show a trio of people—were shredded past recognition. She stepped over the wreckage of a privacy screen, bumped into what felt like a smashed-in wardrobe. A bedframe had completely collapsed, and Ahsoka knelt to run her fingers along the edge. The mattress was ripped open, and a bundle of curtains and blankets was thrown haphazardly over it. Like a nest.

She jumped, almost knocking over a small table, as a hulking shape registered in her peripheral vision; but a second look told her it was a chipped statue. A stag and a flurry of birds, she thought as she squinted, dancing around one another. It could have been a sweet pastoral piece if it wasn’t for the oppressive gloom.

There was only one thing she could find that was completely intact was a single white rose, glowing faintly under glass, tucked protectively against the ruined bedframe.

Huh.

Intrigued, Ahsoka got carefully to her feet and stepped, slowly, carefully, toward the bell jar. Why _that,_ of all things…?

She was almost close enough to touch it when suddenly her vision was filled with blackness, white teeth, and a pair of silently burning blue eyes.

For a moment they stared at each other without a word. Then the beast took a single slow step toward her, and Ahsoka stumbled back. For some reason that seemed to infuriate the creature more than ever; her ears folded and she gave a low snarl.

 _“Why,”_ she hissed.

“I,” Ahsoka stammered. “I, I was...curious, there’s not...much to do here and…”

 _“Would there be more to do in the tower?”_ The beast had never raised her voice in Ahsoka’s hearing before. She wasn’t...yelling, precisely, but the smoldering anger that was always just under the surface was starting to boil over. Ahsoka flinched back from the threat. “Is my life a _curiosity_ now? I risk the safety of every living creature in this castle on _your word_ and you cannot manage to leave me a few moments where I’m not forced to remember? To leave my past where it belongs?!”

“Your past?” Ahsoka glanced over her shoulder at the door, remembering what had happened the last time she tried to run and wondering if it might be worth a shot anyway. “What are you talking—”

The beast clawed at the ground, gunmetal claws sparking as she gouged a new set of marks. She wasn’t close enough to Ahsoka to possibly have touched her, but Ahsoka still stumbled backward.

“I have shown you,” the beast snarled, “every _possible_ kindness. You made an honorable offer and I have done _everything_ in my power to treat you with honor in return. I have never restricted your movements within this castle, you are to be given any comfort you can ask for within reason. I have respected your autonomy and your _privacy,_ and I require the same respect from you!”

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Ahsoka told her. She was trying for “soothing” but it mostly came out desperate. “I’m sorry, okay, I didn’t even know this was your—”

_“Didn’t you.”_

Ahsoka wasn’t stupid, and she was a terrible liar. She didn’t answer, and the beast made a low, disgusted noise.

“Get out,” she said bitterly. Ahsoka didn’t need telling twice.

* * *

“Sabé,” Padmé sighed, hiding a smile. “Come now. We’ve talked about this.”

Her handmaiden paused, then shook her head fondly and set the tea service back down. “Yes, my lady.”

Padmé preened a bit as her friend sat down with her on the sofa. She put an arm around Sabé’s waist and tugged her closer, leaning forward to pour them both tea. She respected Sabé’s professionalism, but, really. There was no need to be so formal after hours.

Sabé, having long since grown accustomed to her lady’s eccentricities, rolled her eyes and rested her head on Padmé’s shoulder. Padmé turned to kiss the top of her head, and they drifted off into a comfortable sort of silence as they watched the snow fall.

At least, until someone started banging on the door.

They looked at each other, then at the clock; this must be important, for someone to be so desperate at five minutes to midnight. Sabé, ever the cautious one, gestured to Padmé to stay where she was, handed her lady a carving knife pulled from God only knew where, and grabbed the fireplace poker before going to answer the door.

A second later she stepped back, admitting their visitor.

Padmé hastily set the carving knife aside.

 _“Anakin!”_ she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

Anakin embraced her as she moved to greet him, but it was much briefer than it should have been.

“I know where Ahsoka is,” he blurted.

Padmé and Sabé exchanged a glance before Padmé shook herself.

“Anakin,” she said, “That’s wonderful, is she…?”

His sister’s disappearance had devastated Anakin. By now, the village assumed she was dead. Padmé knew Anakin blamed himself; it hadn’t been difficult to realize Ahsoka had ridden off to find him. But he’d told her himself that he knew she’d probably died…

“I lied,” he said miserably. “She’s not dead, Padmé. I’ve always known where she is, it’s just...I promised I wouldn’t say anything, and if we’re not careful she’s gonna get killed.”

Sabé’s expression was very nearly one of pity. The thought had crossed Padmé’s mind as well; but something in the way Anakin spoke made her pause.

“Get me something to write on,” she told her handmaiden, and guided Anakin over to the table. “We’ll figure something out, Anakin. Start from the beginning.”

* * *

It was at least two more weeks before Ahsoka saw the beast again.

It was sheer chance— _sheer bad luck,_ she thought. Ahsoka had been coming up from breakfast, laughing to herself and brushing flour off her sleeves as she pocketed some chopped carrots for Twilight, and she’d run into her...host...on the stairs. Very nearly literally.

“Oh!” Ahsoka hesitated, tongue-tied, before deciding on a simple, “Sorry.”

The creature looked at her for a moment before wordlessly stepping aside to let her pass.

Ahsoka wasn’t sure whether to thank her or not, so she settled for a stiff nod in passing. Then she thought better of it and turned around.

“Uh, hey,” she said, twisting her hands together. The beast paused and looked over her shoulder incredulously, but didn’t say anything, so Ahsoka took that as permission to continue. “I had a question.”

That was the wrong thing to say. The beast’s face closed.

“My guard is more than capable of answering any questions you may have,” she said coolly.

“It was a question for you.” Ahsoka rocked on her heels as she tried to decide whether she wanted to take a step closer to or away from the beast. “I wanted to know if I could—”

“I don’t care.” The sharp edge was back in the beast’s voice. “I never had any desire for you to intrude upon my household and I could not care less what you do to amuse yourself so long as I and mine are left in peace. If you never cross my path again, nothing would give me more pleasure.”

Oh.

That was _it._

Ahsoka’s fists clenched. Retorts chased themselves around in circles, crashing into each other as they roared in her head: _That’s rich coming from—holding me prisoner—want me out of your hair so badly I’d be more than happy to—_

By the time she’d managed to stop choking on her own indignation, the beast was gone. You know what? Good! _Great!_ She wasn’t the only one who’d be perfectly happy never seeing each other again!

“Fine,” Ahsoka spat at the empty stairwell. She spun on her heel and ran for the front door.

She’d _tried_ to keep the faith, hadn’t she? She’d been all willing to be a good little prisoner and get permission and—well, if her _gracious host_ didn’t care what she did, she was damn well going for a ride!

Twilight fixed her one good eye on Ahsoka as she stormed into the stable, whickering in concern. Ahsoka forced herself to slow down and unclench her muscles before she took her frustration out on her horse. She was only marginally calmer as she slipped one of the bridles from the tackroom she’d spent a few days altering over Twilight’s head. Once that was done, she threw herself onto the mare’s back and sent her in a gallop out the massive gates.

The snowfall from the night before meant that she didn’t get the satisfying thunder of hooves on the dirt path; it was a thick, heavy, muted sound. But Twilight’s bulk meant she could charge through breast-deep snowbanks with barely a pause, and that was almost as viscerally gratifying. For once she was even responding to the reins.

Ahsoka let Twilight run until she stopped. She wasn’t worried about finding her way back, not with the massive swath the big draft mare was leaving behind her in the deep snow, and she _needed_ this. It would never quite feel like flying, not with a horse as heavy and galumphing as Twilight; but that sense of weight and momentum was grounding. It was like borrowing some of the horse’s power, and by the time Twilight finally clopped to a slow walk Ahsoka’s heartbeat was steadier and her emotions a lot less tumultuous.

“Thanks, girl,” she murmured, leaning forward to scratch Twilight between the ears.

Twilight twisted her head around to lip at Ahsoka’s boot, then looked around and stretched her neck out, tugging at a low-hanging oak branch.

Ahsoka had a split-second of warning as the entire tree hissed, and then a few dozen pounds of powdery snow were dumped on their heads.

“Ah!” Ahsoka frantically shook out her clothes, trying to get rid of the snow that had fallen down her shirt. “Twilight!”

Twilight, blinking in bewilderment, shook herself vigorously to get rid of the snow. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and pulled the branch again. Ahsoka hoped, for a moment, that maybe there was no more snow in the tree to be dislodged.

_Whump._

“There is something deeply wrong with you,” Ahsoka informed the mare flatly.

It occurred to her, as she and Twilight shook themselves free of snow and she tugged firmly on the reins to stop the horse from repeating her maneuver for a third time, that there was an extremely well-made, fur-lined cloak back in her quarters at the castle.

Well, never mind. She wouldn’t have stopped for it anyway. It would kind of defeat the purpose of stalking off in a huff.

Ahsoka sighed and scratched Twilight’s mane.

“I mean,” she admitted. “I’d probably have been pissed if I found someone going through my stuff too.”

A fascinated Twilight tried to pull on her tree branch again, missed, and spent several seconds clicking her teeth at empty air.

Ahsoka pulled the horse around. “I mean,” she continued. “I still think she overreacted. If she didn’t want me going up there all she had to do was have someone tell me it was where she lived, I wasn’t born in a barn. No offense.”

Twilight snorted at a rock.

Ahsoka shook her head in amazement.

“Twilight,” she said. “I honestly don’t know how you’re still…”

A slight movement, grey fur against grey shadows, caught her eye, and Ahsoka and the nearby wolf looked at each other.

“...alive,” she finished, slowly gathering the reins. “Okay, girl. Nice and easy. Let’s get going.”

Thankful for the first time that Twilight had the brains of your average sack of beans, Ahsoka held her in a complacent walk, headed back along their own tracks in the snow.. For a few seconds she actually thought that might be good enough; but then she started to feel the tension in her horse’s body, and realized grimly that she’d underestimated Twilight’s survival instincts.

The mare held. For now. But more wolves were melting out of the forest, and all of them were very, very focused on Twilight. And they were slowly working their way closer.

Okay, Ahsoka. Think. _Think_...there was a way out of this, right? What would Anakin do?

And then one of the wolves lunged, and Twilight screamed and bolted.

They never had a chance. Even a _fast_ horse couldn’t outstrip a wolf pack for long; and Twilight was built for slow, heavy work. All she was doing was tiring herself out for them; but the mare’s fear was contagious and it was far too late to rein her in. Ahsoka just clung to her bare back, kept a white-knuckled grip on Twilight’s mane, and silently urged her to go faster.

It was useless. She knew that. Twilight was forging her way through the snow again; they weren’t retracting their steps anymore. There was no chance that they would end up back at the castle.

And that meant the wolves would be on them and there was nothing she could do.

The wolves’ eerie singing filled the air around them. She was losing her ability to stay on Twilight’s back; the mare’s coat was winter-thick and slippery, too broad to get a decent grip with her legs, and the jolts as they frantically jumped downed trees and streams were not making it easier. Branches whipped at Ahsoka’s face, and she felt the wolves snapping closer and closer to her heels.

Finally, Twilight stumbled.

It should have happened in slow motion, but it was all too quick. Twilight stumbled; Ahsoka fell from her back and snagged the reins on the way down and accidentally wrenched her poor horse’s head around, and the wolves moved in.

Ahsoka managed to kick one of them in the throat, only hard enough to knock it back for a moment as she scrambled to Twilight’s side. The mare lashed out with her hind legs, but the wolves were faster. She reared and trumpeted a challenge; it stalled the pack for a moment, but only a moment. One of the wolves swung its nose toward Ahsoka’s throat and crouched to spring.

It never got a chance. The wolf leaped—and a wall of rough fur, gunmetal-gray on black, slammed it to the ground.

The beast didn’t spare a glance for Ahsoka. She lifted her paw to let the wolf under it stagger off crying and dragging a shattered leg, then planted herself in front of Twilight, tossed her antlers and gave a thick, rolling snarl. The pack froze, wavered...and then rushed forward as one.

Ahsoka had been willing to take the beast’s word, that first night, that Ahsoka’s village could never stand against her. But she hadn’t really _believed_ it, or at least she hadn’t been able to picture what that would mean. Not until now.

Those terrible sickle claws sliced ribbons of red in the sides of the beast’s attackers. A few of the wolves managed to get through, sinking their teeth into the beast; but she had teeth as well, and they sank deep into the nearest wolf’s throat and flung it into a tree with enough force that Ahsoka heard ribs snap. Twelve-point antlers flashed in the sun, diving and goring, and scarlet drops flicked from the tips as the beast rose on her hind legs and tossed a speared opponent into its packmates.

The wolves were starving, not stupid. In a matter of moments, the pack had scattered, those that survived fleeing wildly into the trees.

The silence was thick enough to stick an axe in. Ahsoka kept a firm hold on Twilight’s reins, taking half a step forward and almost reaching out for the beast before pulling her hand back.

“...Thanks,” she finally managed.

The beast twitched, glancing back over her shoulder.

“I take my obligations…” she began in a dangerously unsteady voice, and then her leg gave out.

* * *

The beast hissed as Ahsoka touched her.

“Big baby,” Ahsoka muttered reflexively. Her eyes widened as she remembered that this wasn’t Anakin she was patching up, but the only reaction she got was an annoyed look. She relaxed a bit. The beast was actually a pretty good patient, all things considered. Bit of a backseat medic, though.

“It needs to be…” The beast cut herself off as Ahsoka dipped a rag in the pot of soapy water she’d brought with her, then finished in an undertone, “...cleaned out.”

Ahsoka smirked.

“You needn’t look so pleased with yourself,” the beast muttered.

That wiped the smugness off her face, and Ahsoka concentrated on cleaning out the bite marks and lacerations the beast had suffered defending her. Thankfully there weren’t many; but the ones she had were deep.

The guard...furniture..had volunteered to take care of their mistress, but Ahsoka was the only one with opposable thumbs and the ability to lift objects larger than a thimble, so she’d pulled rank. Kix in particular had been stiffly indignant about being passed over—he had, according to Rex, been the battalion medic before whatever event they didn’t talk about happened, which explained a lot about his mother-hen tendencies. The teapot had contented himself with boiling and preparing the medical supplies, and Ahsoka was reasonably certain he wasn’t going to poison her food.

“Were you following us?” she asked bluntly.

“No.” Her answer was immediate enough that Ahsoka believed her. “I heard the wolves.”

There wasn’t much she could say to that.

“This might start bleeding again,” Ahsoka told the beast instead. “That’s all right, that’s normal. It’ll help flush the wound out, and then we can bandage it…”

The beast looked at her with interest.

“I wasn’t aware you were a healer,” she said carefully.

Ahsoka laughed. She couldn’t help it. She got it under control when the beast’s expression turned dark again, but she was still grinning.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just—yeah, I’m not a healer. I just had to learn this stuff. Anakin’s inventions tend to involve a lot of, uh...shrapnel, in the early stages. Plus, I mean...the forge isn’t exactly safe. Hot metal, sharp objects, things go wrong.”

The beast looked at her for a long time, head tilted slightly as she watched Ahsoka work.

“...You have delicate hands for a blacksmith,” she said softly.

 _Softly._ That certainly wasn’t a word Ahsoka had ever expected to apply to this creature. It wasn’t even really that her voice was any different. It was still rough and deep and grating, but...well, it wasn’t like she could help that, could she? And the defensiveness was, if not gone, at least lessened for the moment.

Realizing she’d been blinking up at the beast in surprise for a few seconds too long, Ahsoka cleared her throat and went back to work.

* * *

Barriss woke slowly.

She was...unaccustomed to waking up in the light, but at least she managed not to have more than a moment of disorientation. The day before would have been difficult to forget, even if it wasn’t for the sting when she tried to move her arm—her front leg, too quickly.

That was always the worst part. Even after all these years, she’d never gotten comfortable in this body. She expected that was part of the punishment, to always know that everything about her was _wrong._ Her mind woke every morning expecting a small, dark-skinned human form, and found itself trapped in an awkward, monstrous body that would never feel right.

Even her guard, painfully loyal souls all of them, didn’t quite understand why she kept so much to herself. But in the dark she didn’t have to look at herself, and she could...pretend. Try to forget, for a moment or two.

A quiet sound drew her out of her melancholy, and she went still as she looked down.

She really hadn’t expected Ahsoka to stay. Surely, she’d thought, the girl would have been gone by now. But there she was, curled up in a sleepy ball, cuddled into Barriss’ fur. As if she were a warm pillow and not…

Ahsoka stirred, blinking as she yawned and sat up. She stiffened slightly as she realized she’d fallen asleep on Barriss’ shoulder, but didn’t seem disgusted or horrified.

“..Hey,” she said after a second, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m, um, I’ll leave you alone. I’m gonna go get something to eat, you should get your bandages checked…”

“Wait,” Barriss said quickly as the girl started to move off.

She winced at the growl of her voice, but Ahsoka only looked a little wary, and Barriss cleared her throat.

“You’re welcome to join me for breakfast,” she offered. The words came out stilted and hesitant. Ahsoka didn’t respond right away, and Barriss tried to fill the silence. “I am...unaccustomed to company. It was not my intention to make you feel unwelcome here.”

Ahsoka moved slowly, cautiously; but she sat down in one of the armchairs in the room. “I...sure. Thank you.”

Barriss let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

For a few minutes they sat across from one another, Barriss curled up by the ashes of the fire while Ahsoka bounced one leg and tried to figure out where to look.

“It was a gift,” Barriss blurted.

Ahsoka jumped and looked up. “What?”

Barriss scraped her claws against the floor, examining the carpet closely. “The rose,” she said. “It was a gift. There’s nothing...special about it, except that it never wilts. I keep it because it was a gift. And as a reminder.” Ahsoka’s brow furrowed, and Barriss bit out the next words, sour on her tongue. “A reminder,” she repeated. “Beauty is only skin deep. Sooner or later you show what you truly are.”

It occurred to Barriss that she was deeply out of practice in the art of making casual conversation.

Thankfully, Ahsoka was less so.

“So, uh,” she began, moving away from the bitter moment. “I was wondering. What am I supposed to call you, anyway?”

Barriss was surprised for a second, then offered her guest a wry smile.

“Well, you don’t have to call me _mistress,_ if that’s what you’re asking.”

Ahsoka stared at her for a second while Barriss tried to figure out what she’d done wrong. Then the girl suddenly laughed.

“Good to know,” she said, still grinning delightedly, and Barriss realized that it was the first sign of humor Ahsoka had ever seen from her. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d made even half a joke with anyone. She used to banter with Crash all the time…

Kix and the 501st arrived in a clatter of dishes to make a military-precision stop at the dining room table, and their conversation was forgotten in favor of breakfast.

* * *

Ahsoka wasn’t sure what made her say it.

But the beast—and she had to have a name—had walked her to her room after breakfast, quiet and still favoring her wounds but politely giving Ahsoka her space. She’d nodded once they arrived and started to leave, and...well, maybe Ahsoka just didn’t like the idea of anyone shutting themselves away in the dark all day.

“You know, that’s great virgin snow out there,” she called at the beast’s retreating back. The creature turned around in surprise, and Ahsoka shrugged. “I’ve been talking to Rex, we might work in a snowball fight with the Teacups. Those guys are _seriously_ overcompensating for something, I could use someone on my side. Besides, I still haven’t seen most of the grounds yet.”

The beast was frozen, but this time she didn’t look angry or defensive. Just...stunned. Like she’d never heard of a snowball fight before.

“If...you want to go for a walk on the grounds,” the beast said haltingly, “I would...be honored to accompany you.”

Ahsoka shook her head, unable to hold back a grin.

“Close enough,” she said. “C’mon.”

“You could at least grab your cloak,” the beast complained. Funny thing, really—the more they talked, the easier it got to listen to the gravelly rasp in her voice.

It was a fair request, anyway, and Ahsoka ducked into her room to grab the cloak hanging in her thankfully nonsentient wardrobe. It was cold out there, and whoever the thick cloak had originally belonged to Ahsoka was glad it had been passed to her.

The beast cocked her head and gave one of those strange, unfamiliar smiles.

“It suits you,” she told Ahsoka. Ahsoka winked and twirled once, making the beast snort. What? A girl could have fun once in a while.

The beast actually rolled her eyes, and Ahsoka waved her host after her as she took the initiative and started down the stairs. The beast was just padding up to her as she braced her feet against the floor and hauled open the massive front doors.

“It will take ages to heat the main hall again,” the beast pointed out.

“Magic castle,” Ahsoka reminded her. “Besides, it’s a special occasion, you _seriously_ need to get out more. Come on!” She turned around and walked backwards, spreading her arms. “What’re you waiting for?”

To her astonishment, the beast visibly swallowed as she peered at the unspoiled snow. She took a deep breath, lifted one of her massive bearlike front paws, and stepped over the threshold, but seemed unable to move further than that.

She lifted her foot again, and an expression Ahsoka suddenly recognized as agonizing pain was frozen on her muzzle as she stared at the ragged pawprint in the snow. Oh. _Oh..._

Ahsoka took a step closer; and then, finally, a second, close enough to place her hand on the beast’s neck and wind her fingers into the thick dappled fur.

“Hey,” she said softly. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. Come on. You’re not gonna believe how pretty the duck pond is when everything’s covered with ice.”

The beast gave a low whine as she looked into Ahsoka’s eyes, hideously uncertain; then she took another deep, steeling breath and nodded.

Ahsoka felt herself smiling like an idiot, but she didn’t care.

“Here,” she said, gripping the beast’s fur again, making sure she felt the contact. “This way. I mean, it’s your castle, I know you know the way, but...oh hey! Look over there!”

The beast blinked and looked where Ahsoka was pointing, which gave her the perfect opportunity to swipe her foot through the snow and toss a light wave of powder into her host’s unsuspecting face when she turned back.

If it had the added benefit of destroying the nearest footprints, that was just a perk.

Ahsoka knew she was playing with fire here; she’d seen how touchy the beast was about being mocked. But she was never going to learn to relax if everyone always acted like she was made of glass. At least she didn’t look angry; mostly just nonplussed, like she had no idea what had just happened. Ahsoka took her chance.

“What?” she asked, walking backwards again, folding her hands behind her back and quirking an eyebrow in as clear a challenge as she could send. “You’re just gonna take that?”

The beast’s eyes narrowed, and Ahsoka stomped down a spike of fear as the beast crouched low to the ground, head lowered like every barn cat she’d ever seen stalk a mouse. Her tail twitched, and then she struck.

Ahsoka shrieked, which was not her proudest moment, and then a massive wall of snow knocked her to the ground.

She clawed her way out of the impromptu snowbank, coughing and spitting out snow, suddenly very awake. “You—you don’t do things halfway, do you?”

The beast backed off like a spooked horse.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forget—”

“Are you kidding?” Ahsoka demanded. “Those teacups are going _down!_ I had a place picked out for our fort, I’ll show you. But uh, one thing first.”

Relief was clear on the beast’s face as she trotted to Ahsoka’s side. “What is—”

The snowball struck her square between the eyes.

* * *

Barriss closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of even a weak winter sun on black-and-silver fur.

She knew why she’d avoided this for so long, but lounging on a stone terrace swept thoughtfully clear of snow by her guard, her reasons seemed weak.

She dipped her snout and lapped hot, sweet tea from the cup nestled between her paws. Fives was half-asleep himself after the drawn-out snowball war that had taken up most of the afternoon. Most of the others were either napping along the terrace or inside getting supper ready; Rex and Ahsoka were still going at it, and Barriss laughed softly as a teacup’s worth of snow whistled past Ahsoka’s head.

Trademark clicking and the ring of metal on stone announced the arrival of Gree and Crash. Her commander slung himself up onto the stone railing; Crash, always her confidante as a girl, positioned himself by her paws.

“Enjoy yourself, ma’am?” he asked her, and she hummed.

“I really did,” she said softly, watching Ahsoka’s deep turquoise cloak bob in and around the snowy fortifications in the garden. Embroidered hounds in sunshine yellow leaped around the hem. It seemed fitting, somehow. Barriss sighed.

Gree looked over at her. “Something wrong, princess?”

Barriss swept her tail across the stones. “There has to be a way to thank her.” Crash burned brighter with concern, hopping closer to her paw. “I mean...something I can _do_ for her. It’s the least I owe. Isn’t there _something?”_

Gree hopped uncomfortably. “Well, uh, I’m not really an expert, ma’am.” Pensive mood aside, Barriss’ ears twitched in amusement at his awkwardness. “I um, I believe there’s some traditional archetypes, that is...oh...poetry, ma’am? Uh...poems, jewellery, compliments that may or may not be sincere…”

“Sir,” Crash complained.

Gree’s minute hand spun wildly with embarrassment. “I’m trying, here, kid!”

Crash rolled his eyes and nudged Barriss’ paw.

“It needs to mean something to _her,”_ he emphasized. “Just pay attention to her. Maybe, I don’t know, talk to her once in a while.”

Barriss shot him an unimpressed look but couldn’t argue the point.

“What does she like?” Crash pressed. “What does she care about? What makes her happy?”

* * *

Ahsoka felt blindly around in front of her, laughing, until her fingertips finally found a doorframe.

“All right,” she called. “What’s going on?”

The quiet sandpaper laugh she’d gotten so shockingly used to reached her from nearby, which was reassuring. Ahsoka wasn’t sure where they were; she’d obediently kept her arm over her eyes the whole time. But she’d never really walked this far, or in this direction, from the castle, and the beast had stepped away to unlock something.

Warm fur brushed her arm as the beast returned to stand behind her.

“Take three steps forward,” she said. “Then, you can open your eyes.”

Ahsoka gave a skeptical hum, but did as she was told.

When she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to realize what she was looking at. When she did, she gave a harsh gasp and stepped back.

She was an idiot. She should have realized a castle this big would have its own smithy.

Her fingers shook as she stepped forward and ran her fingertips over every surface she could find. Someone had cleaned this up—someone had done their _research,_ figuring out exactly what an incoming stranger would need. This place was everything she could ever have wanted. It wasn’t just bigger than the forge they had back home; it was probably bigger than their _house._ And it wasn’t too cluttered by anyone else’s tools, either; just the basics, with plenty of space to hang or store whatever tools she might design for herself.

She turned back to the beast in a daze, blinking back unexpected tears.

“What...why did nobody ever tell me this was here?” she managed, and the beast flicked her ears apologetically.

“They never realized you would want it,” she said. “None of them ever really had much to do with it. Neither did I, but…”

She cut herself off as Ahsoka flung her arms around that massive head.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the beast’s fur. “Thank you, I...I can’t tell you how much it means…” She swallowed and gestured to the sparse forge. Empty but tidy and waiting, everything from the massive anvil to the tongs simple but extremely well-made, bars and rods of what had to be high quality iron waiting against the wall. She hadn’t realized how much she’d loved her trade until she thought she would never have a chance to practice it again. “I’ve only ever _read_ about setups like this.”

“Do you enjoy reading?” the beast asked wistfully.

Ahsoka shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “I mean, not as much as being out there doing something, but...I like to read. I was spending a lot of time in your library, it’s amazing.”

The beast was getting that distant, mournful look in her eyes again. “It is. I was always reading as a child.” Seeing Ahsoka’s concerned look, she ducked her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It’s just...been so long.”

Ahsoka frowned.

The beast winced at another one of those flashes of pain, but it was briefer this time. By way of answer, she sat back on her haunches and dragged the claws of one hand down the doorframe, throwing up sparks and digging triple furrows into the stone. Ahsoka bit her tongue and swallowed the words _Quit scratching up my forge._

“Books,” the beast said by way of explanation. “It doesn’t work.”

Ahsoka looked at her. Of _course_ the beast was once a shy little bookworm. It explained a lot, actually. And if she hadn’t been able to even touch a book without destroying it since she was cursed, then according to what she’d picked up from Rex and the others it had been…

“Ten years?” she asked softly. The beast gave a low, unhappy whine in her throat and looked away, and Ahsoka stepped forward and ran her fingers through the soft fur behind her ears.

“Hey,” she said. The forge could wait until she’d had time to think of something to make. Maybe she’d recreate some of Anakin’s better household inventions or make some of her own, but neither she nor the cold furnace was going anywhere. There was no rush to get started. “Come on, let’s try something.”

The beast didn’t seem to understand what was happening when Ahsoka led her into the library, so Ahsoka figured asking her to make any decisions right away would be a mistake. She snagged one at random off a shelf because it had a red cover that caught her eye, and guided her friend over to the floor near the picture windows.

“Here,” she said, settling in against the beast’s side and setting the book where she could see it. “Do you like this one?”

The beast’s breath caught, so softly that Ahsoka might not have noticed it if she wasn’t leaning against her ribs.

“...Yes,” she finally said, her voice wavering. “I’ve always enjoyed Shakespeare, though the translations leave something to be desired. Do you...would you like me to read out loud?”

Ahsoka closed her eyes comfortably. “You don’t have to,” she said. “You can just tell me when to turn the page. But...yeah, I’d like that, if you want.”

“Very well.” The tension was draining out of the beast entirely, and Ahsoka smiled. _“Two houses, both alike in dignity…”_

That had been weeks ago, and their library meetings had become a daily occurrence. This evening they’d gone through two plays and were halfway through a collection of Aesop’s fables when Gree tapped on the door to announce dinner. Ahsoka stretched, cracking her back, and smiled. The beast was as quiet as ever, but the difference between the creature shaking out her fur right now and the tense, uncertain monster she’d thought she knew was night and day.

She’d never seen the beast this happy. _It was just a couple of books…_

“I’m glad you’ve made some use of the forge,” the beast told her over dinner; hesitant but hopeful, almost shy. “If there’s anything you need, please let me know. If I can get it for you I will.”

Ahsoka bit her lip happily. “I think I’m fine for now,” she said. “I’ve got some ideas. Man, Anakin would be so jealous if he could see—”

She cut the words off so quickly she almost choked. She didn’t really talk about her brother, it felt...rude, or like she’d seem hinting. She’d known the price when she volunteered as a hostage.

The beast just looked sad. Maybe regretful.

“Do you miss your brother?” she asked.

Ahsoka couldn’t lie to her. “Of course. Every day.” When the beast nodded for her to continue, she said, “I just...worry about him. I wish I could check on him or something, just to make sure he’s okay.”

The beast’s ears flicked forward at that. “There is a way,” she said. “If it would help.”

Ahsoka’s chest tightened. “Really?”

The beast nodded, jerking her muzzle over her shoulder. “This mirror,” she said. “It’s a family heirloom. Enchanted. Tell it what you want to see.”

If this was a joke, it wasn’t funny. But the beast had never been cruel, and Ahsoka didn’t think she’d start now. She cleared her throat.

“I’d...like to see my brother,” she said, raising her voice to be heard across the room. “If...it’s not too much trouble?”

She whistled, impressed, as the mirror’s surface changed. After a moment, it went still to reveal an image of a trio of people gathered around a table.

Ahsoka gave a sigh of relief.

“That’s Padmé,” she said, pointing to the beautiful woman holding Anakin’s hand as they pored over papers. Sabé was next to her lady, nodding and occasionally pointing to something. “I was afraid he wouldn’t propose, it’s good to see them…”

She trailed off and frowned as she realized she could hear their conversation.

_“...spent months on this already, Padmé, for all we know…!”_

The image of Padmé ran a soothing hand over Anakin’s arm. _“I’m sure she’s fine,”_ she said. _“Ahsoka’s smart. She’ll do what she has to do to stay alive.”_

 _“Yeah, but for how much longer?”_ Anakin ran a hand through his hair. _“You weren’t there, Padmé, this thing...if it killed Ahsoka I’ll never forgive myself.”_

Sabé looked up at him, and her voice, distorted through the mirror was dark and certain.

 _“If it killed Ahsoka,”_ she promised him, _“We’ll avenge her.”_

There was silence around the table. Padmé nodded sharply and began gathering papers.

 _“All right,”_ she said. _“We’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Sabé, contact the others. We can’t risk causing a scene; if this monster, whatever it is, realizes we’re coming, the first thing it’s going to do is kill its hostage. We can’t let that happen. This is swift and silent or it doesn’t happen at all.”_

 _“Yes, my lady.”_ And Sabé left.

The image of Anakin turned to Padmé and opened his mouth, but the mirror blurred and returned to its normal state before Ahsoka could hear what he was saying.

“That will do,” the beast said quietly. “Thank you.”

* * *

She should have seen it coming.

Barriss saw that now. She should have known this would happen. Any of her guard would have done the same for her—she would have done the same for them! It was foolish of her, it was _unfair_ of her, to believe for a moment that Ahsoka’s brother would ever allow the sister he loved to be held captive forever and simply return to his life.

How out of touch with basic humanity had she become, that she hadn’t realized that?

What she didn’t understand was why Ahsoka’s face was so ashen when she looked at her. Her hands were shaking. Why…?

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka said, words tripping over one another. “I really thought he’d do it, I wasn’t...I didn’t know he would…”

“Of course he would,” Barriss said, shaking her head at her own idiocy. “I would think less of him if he never tried to rescue you. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I…”

Suddenly she felt even more foolish, and the guilty self-loathing she’d managed to set aside for a few precious weeks surged up in full force.

Of course Ahsoka was terrified.

“Ahsoka,” she said, trying for gentle and only managing a menacing growl that was quieter than usual. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“I knew that,” she said unconvincingly.

Barriss raised an eyebrow.

“I did!” Ahsoka insisted. Her voice was more certain now. “You wouldn’t kill someone in cold blood.”

But she would kill in self-defense. Of course. Ahsoka was afraid for her brother.

What was she _doing?_

Her reasoning had seemed sound before, and if she was kind to herself she knew she _had_ acted with reason. She’d never wanted to hold prisoners, it had seemed justified at the time, but...she was fooling herself if she thought any of this had been kindness.

“Well,” she said. If she forced the words out without thinking about them, maybe she could forget that her heart was breaking. “I do not blame you for how this must end. You may consider our arrangement dissolved.”

She realized too late that it might sound like a threat, but Ahsoka didn’t seem frightened. Just worried.

“What do you…?”

Barriss dug her claws into the stone floor to hide her own shaking. “You agreed to remain here as collateral against your brother’s cooperation.” They were cold words, and she realized how deeply she had deluded herself that Ahsoka might ever be happy here. “As that no longer seems to be an effective strategy, I release you. There is no purpose in your staying in the crossfire.”

For some reason, Ahsoka looked hurt.

“I’ll talk them down,” she said. “He’s just worried, I’ll explain to him.”

She was still worried about Anakin, and Barriss realized she needed to be clearer.

“Your brother has done nothing wrong,” she said, the words nearly catching in her chest. “This is not a hateful mob. I have no right to harm them. I don’t intend to. Please. Go back to your family. This has gone on long enough. Let him put an end to it.”

“Uh,” said Ahsoka. “Okay, take it down a notch. It’ll be fine, I promise, okay? He just thinks I’m still locked in a dungeon somewhere. He’ll listen to me.”

Barriss shook her head, but didn’t argue the point.

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” she said. “I have no right to it, but thank you for the happiness you’ve given me. Go.” After a long moment of hesitation, Ahsoka ran out of the room.

Gree hoisted himself onto the table next to her.

“It would’ve been better tactics to keep her here, mistress,” he observed neutrally.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I…” Well, she was going to die anyway. “She trusts me. I think I might love her. If you’ll excuse me…”

* * *

Crash watched his princess disappear upstairs and ached to be with her. He was _her_ guardsman, practically her older brother, and she shouldn’t be alone right now. But he’d recognized Gree’s pointed looks, and he stayed behind to talk to him.

“What is it, sir?” he asked in an undertone.

The pocketwatch quivered.

“That should be it,” he said. “Shouldn’t it? That should break the curse.”

Crash shook his head.

“That’s not enough, sir.” It wasn’t right. He was made of metal; he shouldn’t be able to feel this agony in his chest anymore. “She has to think she deserves to be loved in return.”

Gree closed his eyes in despair. They’d had hope, before. But with the girl gone, nothing could possibly convince the princess now.

“She’s going to let them come,” said Gree.

Crash met his eyes.

“Not while I’m breathing,” he said, and the pocketwatch and candlestick who had been the young princess’ personal guard shared a knowing look as they acknowledged their last, final duty.

A bunch of household knickknacks couldn’t hold off an angry human mob—but they were damn well gonna try before the end.

They figured they only had a few hours, but they were professionals, and they set up what defenses they could in that time. Crash respected his commander more than ever by the time everything was in place. They didn’t have the manpower to cover multiple exits, but the 501st tea cart gave them some mobility. Crash was going to act as misdirection in whatever way possible; Gree was wrapped around his handle in order to pass orders more effectively.

It wouldn’t be enough. And to make matters worse, a thick fog had rolled in, making their scouts worse than useless. But they did have a plan, and if the mistress stayed in her quarters like usual…

“Oh, no,” Gree whispered.

Crash followed his line of sight and hissed. His princess—always their princess, mangled monstrous form or not—walked calmly up to the front doors and pulled them open. The chain they’d wrapped around the handles snapped like old string. Crash wasn’t even certain she’d noticed it.

He wanted to call her back, but then he heard slow, muffled hoofbeats and didn’t dare make a sound. Maybe they wouldn’t see her…?

The tea cart inched into the room, and Gree and Rex nodded to one another. They were the royal guard. They weren’t going to stand here and watch their lady die…

...especially, Crash realized with a jolt, since no one was trying to kill her.

* * *

It had taken longer than Ahsoka expected to convince Anakin that he really, really didn’t have to rescue her. She probably shouldn’t have been so optimistic. She knew how boneheaded her brother could be.

Padmé had asked a lot of pointed questions, but had finally been satisfied that no, Ahsoka really was fine, she wasn’t being forced to talk them down, she really had been treated well, and she genuinely wasn’t in any danger.

“She was never going to hurt me, Anakin,” she’d said, over and over, trying to make him believe it. “I don’t think she could. She can barely make herself kill in self-defense, I’m fine.”

“There _is_ a subtle but important distinction between a prisoner and a political hostage,” Padmé had pointed out.

“Yeah,” Ahsoka had agreed. “What she said.”

Sabé had eventually signalled the strike team to stand down. That had been a little concerning. Ahsoka wasn’t sure she wanted to know _how_ Padmé had contacts with an elite corps of assassins, but they were all pretty friendly once they started talking. So that was nice.

Anakin had still wanted to come back and see proof for himself that Ahsoka wasn’t lying, but she’d finally managed to convince him to let everyone calm down first. And, possibly, ditch the assassins.

“No offense, girls,” she’d told them, “it’s just it might send the wrong message.”

It had been a _long_ night.

Anakin had asked...well, insisted...that she go home with him, and she’d been tempted, but...aside from anything else, she really ought to get back and let everyone know the crisis was past, just to be safe. Besides, she didn’t want to invite the next round of interrogations. She was tired, and seriously worried about the beast. The way she’d been talking…

Twilight picked up the pace to an eager trot as the castle loomed out of the fog, and Ahsoka couldn’t help but agree with her. She really didn’t want anything right now but some of Kix’s tea and to curl up by the fire with...well, first things first.

She didn’t drop Twilight off at the stable first this time; this was important, the horse could wait. They trotted right up to the main doors, and Ahsoka slid off her back, smiling when she saw the beast waiting for her.

“Hey,” she said, a little nervous. Her brother had just tried to assassinate her, after all, she was allowed to be kind of put out by that. “I...hey, sweetheart. Everything’s fine, I talked to Anakin. He um, he wants to come by himself sometime, or with Padmé, just to check on me. I told him I’d ask.”

The beast stared at her.

Ahsoka stepped toward her, worried. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you, okay?” she said. “It’ll be all right. Everything’s fine, everyone’s safe.”

The beast kept staring, and swayed alarmingly.

“You,” she stammered. “You came back.”

“Yeah, of course I did.” Ahsoka frowned and reached out to stroke her fur, but the beast cringed away.

“You came...no,” she said. _“No_ you don’t—that’s not what I meant! You’re free, of course you’re free, you didn’t have to come back!”

She might’ve slapped Ahsoka in the face and gotten it over with, it would’ve hurt less.

“Do you not want me here?”

The beast looked askance. “Of course I do,” she said. “That’s exactly why I can’t keep you here, you—I don’t have the right, making you miserable because having you here makes me happier than I’ve ever been, you have a right to your freedom—”

Ahsoka moved again, and this time she managed to wind her fingers into the beast’s fur before she could shy away from the contact.

“Yeah,” she said, stroking the beast’s cheek with her free hand. “I do. So, now that I’m free to go wherever I want, I can choose to come back, right?”

The beast was cowering away from her, belly flat on the ground, horrible confusion in those deep blue eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

Ahsoka knelt down and smiled at her.

“What,” she said. “Is it that hard to believe I might actually like being here?”

 _“Yes,”_ the beast said desperately, and Ahsoka’s heart went out to her. She really was just a girl, somewhere in there.

“Easy,” Ahsoka murmured. “Look. You make me happy, okay? You’re sweet and smart and when you forget to be miserable you’re really funny. I’d miss you if I left. I figure it’s easier for Anakin to just keep the house and visit me here than for me to set up shop in the village and try to find time to come out and see you.”

The beast just stared.

“You okay?” Ahsoka stroked her head. “Talk to me, you’re kinda freaking me out here.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” the beast told her. “If you knew what I am, what’s been done in my name—Ahsoka, my curse was _earned,_ I’m a monster, if you knew—”

Ahsoka placed two fingers on the tip of her muzzle.

“Quit that,” she told her, and kissed the top of her head. “I know everything I need to know. I’m not going anywhere.” She grinned. “I just got the forge set up the way I like. You’re _never_ getting rid of me now.”

The beast tried one more time.

“I’m—”

“I’ve met monsters,” Ahsoka told her seriously. “Trust me on this. Monsters don’t hate themselves for knocking over a table and startling someone. You’re doing a whole lot better than some of the humans in this world just the way you are.”

The beast took a long, shuddering breath.

When she closed her eyes, the whistle of the wind continued.

It took Ahsoka a few seconds to notice. The faint winter breeze picked up slowly at first, then whipped itself into a gale, spiralling around them. It was a tempest in a bottle, as golden light broke through the midnight clouds; the beast’s fur whipped violently but Ahsoka’s clothes didn’t even move, and her breath was torn away in shock as, under her hands, the beast...shifted.

She didn’t move, but everywhere the wind tugged at her fur it changed, strands of coarse hair melting together and softening into thick fabric. The beast’s paws clenched; when they spread again the claws had vanished and the remaining fur was snatched away by the wind, vanishing into the sunlight. The fangs retracted, the antlers shifting from wicked obsidian to pale gold and folding in on themselves, breaking free at the base until they formed a gentle circlet around the brow of the beautiful, exhausted girl huddled in Ahsoka’s arms.

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, the first time her future wife looked up at her. “Oh, _wow._ I mean...hey there. You, uh...doing okay?”

The...well, the...the former...the _princess_ didn’t answer her right away. She was staring at her own hands. Then, trembling so badly she could barely get her fingers to cooperate, she linked them through Ahsoka’s and brought their clasped hands to her cheek.

She promptly burst into tears.

Ahsoka hugged her closer on reflex, holding the young woman against her chest while she sobbed.

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Yeah, that’s fair, you’ve, uh. Been through a lot tonight, haven’t you?” The princess nodded frantically into her chest. “Yeah, I figured. You’re gonna have to tell me about it sometime.”

A dozen and change pounding footsteps made them both look up. In the doorway stood a wide-eyed man with the strangest hairdo Ahsoka had ever seen, wearing a formal green uniform in silver filigree. Just behind him was a younger man, maybe a few years older than her and the princess—Anakin’s age—who wasn’t wearing a uniform at all, just practical chain mail. Something about him, the burning concern and joy in his eyes, told Ahsoka that she was looking at Crash. And the crowd of men behind them, wearing steel armor with blue capes and accents, could only be Rex and his battalion.

“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” Ahsoka confessed to the group. The princess laughed through her tears, pressing her face back against Ahsoka’s neck. “But I’m happy for you, hon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a human AU? Was Luminara the well-meaning enchantress or the dead mom? How are Anakin and Ahsoka related? I DON'T KNOW. HOW DID THIS END UP AT SEVENTEEN THOUSAND WORDS. WHAT YEAR IS IT. Damn, though, thank you to the anon who prompted me this one!
> 
> I do, however, know that Twilight the Horse is basically [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/50/52/64/50526451e825a4e8356afe0db90d8c7a.jpg) except...ugly.


End file.
